


i’ll still love you more

by ohallows



Series: femslash week 2020 [6]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fluff, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: day 7!!!!!! soulmates!!!!! holy shit this has been so fun!!!
Relationships: Betty | Bette/Cleo (Rusty Quill Gaming)
Series: femslash week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672582
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17
Collections: RQG Femslash Week 2020





	i’ll still love you more

**Author's Note:**

> day 7!!!!!! soulmates!!!!! holy shit this has been so fun!!!

Cleo has so many names written across her skin, but there are only two that matter the most to her, now. Her arms are inked over with the names of family members; sisters, brothers, mother and father, cousins, aunts and uncles. They spread across her shoulders and down her back, a stark white against the darkness of her skin. Some are in looping cursive, some in a messy script, some printed more neatly than anything Cleo would be able to write. 

She loves being covered in names; it reminds her where she’s come from, of the people she’s loved and lost. It’s a visual history, and sometimes, she’ll trace the lines of a name on her skin and think back on why it’s there. 

Her back is covered, but she’s the most happy about the name written across the back of her neck, a messy scrawl. Sam. No last name, no full name, just Sam, a bright yellow that pops among the white of her family. She hadn’t known it was there, for a while. Her hair, styled into a neat fro, always covered up the back of her neck, and no one ever got close enough to tell her. She shaved it all off, once, and the hairdresser immediately commented on the color. It was hard for Cleo to see the name in the mirror, but she’d always wondered about who Sam was, who they’d be. 

As it turned out, Sam showed up unannounced a few years after Bette and Cleo had been married. They’d been living in an old, mostly rundown flat on the outskirts of London, and found Sam rummaging around in their rubbish bins in the dark. Cleo had thought they were a raccoon, but upon realising that they were just a young kid, probably no older than 15, had invited them into the house. 

Sam had come, albeit hesitantly, although they hadn’t moved until Cleo had introduced herself and Bette. She didn’t realize until weeks later that Sam recognized their names because they were both written on the back of their neck. 

They ate there, but didn’t stay long. Cleo didn’t blame them; they hadn’t wanted to trust two random strangers, regardless of how trustworthy they looked and the fact that their names were on the back of their neck. They also didn’t  _ stay away _ for long, almost begrudgingly coming back every night right after Bette and Cleo had made dinner. It’s like they had a sixth sense for when they should show up, and Cleo always set them a plate even if they didn’t show up that evening. 

Eventually, Sam just started staying with them, and Cleo learned that they were  _ definitely  _ 18 (she didn’t believe them for a second, but wasn’t willing to push the issue) and that they’d run away from their abusive father after years of dealing with his treatment. They had the bruises and burns to show for it, although the marks were slowly fading from their skin the longer they stayed with Bette and Cleo. They didn’t have a name over their heart, not like Bette and Cleo did, but they didn’t seem to be bothered by it. 

Bette, on the other hand, is written across her heart in a pale red; it’s the best place for it to be, the perfect metaphor for what she means to Cleo. It’s Cleo’s favorite name on her whole entire body, the one that she pressed her hand against when she was younger and so,  _ so  _ alone. 

Cleo finding Bette was another lucky story; they’d been in the same college class and Cleo had finally worked up to ask the pretty girl in vintage clothes sitting next to her out on a date. They’d introduced each other, and, well… the rest is history. They’d gone on dates through college, fell in love slowly, and then Cleo had proposed a few months after graduation, to which Bette had given a teary yes. 

They’ve been together what feels like forever, now. Long enough for Cleo to map out every name written across Bette’s skin, to memorize the way that Bette traces her name on Cleo’s skin.

Both Bette and Sam have similar marks. Bette’s are black, the opposite of Cleo’s, but they stand out just as much. She doesn’t have as many, but Cleo’d asked her about them, once. Bette had just leaned in closer and explained that she fell a little bit in love with everyone she met; the names aren’t just her family. They’re mixed in there, yes, among the names of old coworkers, childhood friends, old girlfriends… 

But Cleo’s most happy about her own name, written right over Bette’s heart in the same pale red of Bette’s name on her own skin. She likes to rest her head there as they lounge together on their bed or on the sofa, lulling herself into relaxation from the steady beat of Bette’s heart. 

Soulmates have been studied, even though not much has come of it. Cleo hasn’t looked into it, but she knows that the different colors mean things. That each name has its own place, where it’s meant to be to reflect what they meant to you. Bette told her once, while they were lying in bed together, Cleo’s head over her heart. Her chest rumbled as she spoke, and Cleo realised that she would do anything to keep things this way forever. 

She says that the name over your heart is the person who complements every aspect of you, and that the name on the back of your neck is the person who will always and forever be your support. 

It’s true enough, Cleo thinks, looking at the two of them in the small living room. Bette has convinced Sam to dance with her, and there’s a lively old song playing on the record player they keep in the corner. She leans in the doorway, watching them, and smiles, soft and sweet. 

Standing here, now, with  _ them…  _ everything feels complete. 

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve arbitrarily decided that bette is a lesbian and that cleo is bi. so. 
> 
> also idk this feels so incomplete idk dude i’m slightly burned out


End file.
